


Diamond in the Rough

by Oshun



Series: Diamond in the Rough [1]
Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Gen, first encounter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 06:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12337509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshun/pseuds/Oshun
Summary: Csevet had been overwhelmed by curiosity when he was sent to the backwater of Edonomee by airship to deliver the message from Lord Chancellor Chavar that the Emperor Varenechibel IV had been killed.





	Diamond in the Rough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forestgreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestgreen/gifts).



Csevet had been overwhelmed by curiosity when he was sent to the backwater of Edonomee by airship to deliver the message from Lord Chancellor Chavar that the Emperor Varenechibel IV had been killed. His duty was to inform the young Archduke Maia Drazhar, the least favored of his father’s children, that he had succeeded him as Emperor of the Elflands.

It had been night when Csevet left the capital in the airship Radiance of Cairado for the relatively short trip and not yet dawn when he arrived. He had heard of Edonomee, located on far western border of the country, described as an isolated, useless, disease-fraught marshland. It was said to be cloudy, damp, and mosquito-ridden in the summer and frigidly miserable in the winter. What would have taken nearly a week, if not longer, of intensely uncomfortable travel by horseback had been accomplished in a few hours by airship.

Of course, Csevet had sneaked a quick peek at the message he carried. An experienced courier like him knew how to lift the wax seal, look at the contents, and reseal the parchment without leaving a trace of any tampering. In any case, one did not have to be a genius of the Clocksmiths’ Guild to imagine what the letter contained. Anyone who could count knew that the recently come-of-age Archduke Maia Drazhar, the child of the ill-fated political match between Varenechibel the Fourth and the Goblin princess Chenelo Drazharan, was next in line for the throne of the Elflands.

Over the years, Csevet had heard contradictory gossip about the Emperor’s fourth son, including that he was an abomination, a hideously ugly half-breed, not to mention mentally deficient or sometimes said to be mad like his mother had been. Others claimed his mother had never been of unsound mind but simply a foreign princess, young and without supporters, while her son was but an ordinary mixed-breed boy, lacking any outstanding talent or grace, unfortunately more resembling his Goblin mother than his Elven father. The fact was that Archduke Maia was infrequently mentioned because, with three older half-brothers, he did not matter much one way or the other.

The Emperor had produced four capable, full-blooded Elven heirs. The eldest Prince Nemolis was followed by two intelligent and attractive fully-grown spares, the Archdukes Nazhira and Ciris. But with the crash of the airship Wisdom of Choharo and the loss of Varenechibel and his three oldest sons, according to law and custom, his fourth son the half-Goblin Archduke Maia was now the unquestioned successor to the imperial throne of Ethuveraz. Then, of course, there was Archduke Idra, son of Nemolis Drazhar, who would have followed his father had Nemoli ever reigned, but was now next in line after Maia, who from the moment of the crash became the uncrowned Emperor of the Elflands.

However, Csevet would not have cared to place a wager on Maia holding onto that position for long. Still, at least for that fragile moment in history, there was no immediate recourse for those who might wish it to be otherwise. Sight unseen, Csevet found it vaguely exciting that this half-Goblin youth had ascended to the throne. He had always considered, like many others, that the scurrilous rumors of the half-blood prince’s imbecility or madness were as likely as not entirely unfounded. The Archduke Maia was of royal blood on both sides. His grandfather on the Goblin side was the Great Avar of Barizhan, capable, powerful, and greatly loved by his people. Why would it be likely that this new emperor would be less fit than any of Varenechibel’s other sons? Truth be told, Csevet had generally found men of mixed-Goblin heritage attractive and no less intelligent than their Elvish counterparts. And fresh blood might improve rather than diminish the ancient line of Ethuverazhin royalty.

In the grim pre-dawn light that barely broke the heavy cloud cover, one look around the foggy marshlands and the ill-maintained manor house caused Csevet to involuntarily shiver. At least the heir would not be bereft at the thought abandoning this dismal site for the capital.

It took a couple or three bouts of heavy pounding on the massive wooden door leading into the enclosure to awaken a servant. The Elven lad who answered the door seemed positively thrilled to greet him. Visitors to the godforsaken place must be few and far between. He ushered Csevet in, babbling about summoning Osmer Nelar, ‘who, fortunately, has not yet gone to bed.’ Csevet drew a few conclusions from the fact that he had asked for the Archduke Maia and not his erstwhile guardian Nelar, yet the lad unquestioningly deferred to Nelar. And the information that Osmer Nelar apparently did not sleep much could indicate a discontented man. These details told Csevet that the heir to the throne might live in uneasy semi-captivity supervised by a wretched warder, both bitter and presumptuous. Although Csevet knew nothing of the Archduke beyond rumor and speculation, he felt pleased at the idea of playing a role in the new Emperor’s liberation from this dismal outpost and his unpleasant jailor.

The Archduke turned out to be a tousle-headed, personable young man, well spoken, if somewhat deferential, given his lofty birth. What a glorious mop of shining black curls he had, half-braided and pulling loose from hastily tied back plaits. It was obvious that he had been awakened from a sound sleep. He stood barefoot before Csevet, clearly embarrassed at his appearance, but appearing alert and ready to put his mind to whatever important matters the courier might have brought him. In spite of his wrinkled, threadbare clothing, the Archduke had assumed a well-practiced stately posture and an attitude of unconscious command. Csevet found himself instantly and utterly besotted. The lad reminded him of the fable of the legendary diamond discovered by a beggar in a rubbish bin.

The Archduke Maia might not have been favored at court, but he had enough spunk about him to shoot a quick censorious glare at the brusque greeting and casual rudeness of his former custodian, who had snapped at Csevet and interrupted Maia at least twice. It pleased Csevet to think this new Emperor would soon be able to rid himself forever of the sour-faced Osmer Setheris Nelar—what a nasty piece of work.

He mused with no small amount of satisfaction that Nelar appeared to have no idea how quickly he would receive his comeuppances. Csevet prayed to the gods, that this handsome lad, finding himself Emperor of the Elflands, would not treat too gently with this arrogant underling who had served as his warder here in the armpit of the Empire and who clearly had abused the trust placed in him by the Court.

There was no mistaking that the beautiful boy was not full-blooded Elvish. He had half-Elven medium-gray skin—in Maia’s case lustrous and clear, tinged at that moment with a faint blush at the apex of his cheekbones. Additionally, he was graced with the aristocratic bearing and features of his royal Elven kinsmen. Yet his sensual mouth and strong, chiseled Goblin jaw line, all traits of his mother’s line, greatly improved his appearance in Csevet’s opinion. His wide-set pale grey eyes, however, were of the same shape and color famously linked to the Drazhada family, the ruling house which had produced the Emperors of the Ethuveraz for centuries. One look into those eyes would deter any but the most foolish or reckless from questioning the young Emperor’s paternity.

Csevet had never been a fool. He raised his chin and, gazing into those arresting eyes, inquired in his most official voice, “Are you the Archduke Maia Drazhar, only child of Emperor Varenechibel the Fourth and Chenelo Drazharan?”

“Yes,” Maia answered. A look of stunned surprise swept over his attractive face when, at his answer, Csevet immediately prostrated himself at his feet upon the shabby, but thankfully clean carpet.

“Your Imperial Serenity,” Csevet said, keeping the tremor out of his voice, but otherwise not trying to hide his pleasure at being the first to address him as such.


End file.
